


the way you turn me on

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Abstinence, Grinding, Heavy Petting, M/M, Making Out, and then, it escalates from there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: Matt made a pledge to be abstinent but he's, like, pretty bad at it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> an anon sent me an ask on Tumblr that said "The Loophole" by Garfunkel and Oates had a college Matt/Foggy vibe and I was, like, "SHIT," and then I got nothing done the rest of the day because I had to write it
> 
> more to come.

The first time they kiss, a few months into living together and both of them still eighteen, Foggy kind of expects Matt to freak out about it afterwards. They’re walking back from a different dorm where they both got tipsy off beer, walking close enough that their shoulders keep knocking together and Matt keeps turning so Foggy can see his grin each time. They sit down on the step of one of the buildings to rest because the distance suddenly seems insurmountable, and then, somewhere between a hug and Matt opening his mouth to say something, they end up kissing.

Foggy’s not sure who exactly started it, but their lips brush and Matt makes a curious noise and pushes into it, opening his mouth enough to lick cautiously at Foggy’s lower lip before they break the kiss.

He’s surprisingly cool about it, afterwards—maybe too drunk to fully react, but he goes pink and smiles and says, thoughtfully, “Oh,” and then they go home and pass out in different beds.

The next morning, Matt gives him a squirrely look before he says, “I—uhm. I had fun last night.”

“Me, too,” Foggy says, then, shakily and into the ensuing silence, “Would you maybe want to do it again?”

Matt smiles.

“Let me brush my teeth,” he says.

They brush their teeth next to each other at the line of the sinks in the communal bathroom, and Matt leans into him briefly when he’s finished and they walk back together silently. When they’re alone again, the door shut behind them, Matt steps forward to slide his fingers up Foggy’s cheek gently before he’s stepping in to kiss him once on the mouth.

It’s like a test, and Foggy thinks that they both passed, because Matt lets Foggy kiss him with tongue and everything and just makes low, interested noises as they stumble backwards onto Foggy’s bed. Matt’s on top of him, straddling Foggy’s legs and bent down so he can keep kissing him, both of his hands tangled in Foggy’s hair.

They don’t stop until Foggy’s fingers move from Matt’s back to slide under his waistband and Matt goes still before he sits up.

“Sorry,” Foggy says. “We can stop.”

“It’s okay,” Matt says. “I just can’t.”

“You can’t?” Foggy asks.

“Until marriage,” Matt says. “Not that—not that we’re going to get married—but I made a promise.”

“To—God?” Foggy asks, already feeling guilty about the fact that Matt’s really close to his really interested dick right now.

“And a priest,” Matt says, smiling uncomfortably down at him before he moves off of Foggy, who sits up next to him. “We can just pretend this didn’t happen, if you want. I know it’s not exactly a popular decision, it’s just—a decision.”

“That you made,” Foggy says. “With a priest. And God. Do you _want_ to pretend like this never happened?”

Matt’s quiet for a too-long moment before he says, “No.”

“Is the whole—two dudes thing not an issue at all?” Foggy asks, carefully putting a hand on Matt’s arm. Matt shakes his head, takes Foggy’s hand instead so their fingers are laced together.

“It won’t be an issue,” he says. “I’ve never—done this before, but I’m not—exactly _new_ to the idea.”

Foggy wants to know approximately everything about baby Catholic Matt’s big gay crushes, but now is probably not the time. He leans in to press a kiss to Matt’s mouth, ruffling his hair a little when he pulls back.

“If I get to keep doing that,” he says, completely sure of himself, “I can handle keeping my hands above your waist.”

Matt grins at him and then they’re kissing again, both of them careful about where their bodies touch.

\---

Once they start kissing, it becomes pretty difficult to stop. It’s fun and hot and they can do it basically anywhere, in their room, in various closets, in dark corners—a few times, outside after dark, sitting in each other’s laps under a tree close to their dorm. People have probably noticed, but none of them has said anything.

They declared the library a kiss-free zone, because they gave up on getting any work done in their room that didn’t involve intently making out with each other at length, but that doesn’t really work out when Matt sighs and shuts his textbook and says, “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Foggy asks, amused, letting Matt lead him while Matt feels his way with a hand gliding over the wall until they’re in the bathroom. It’s empty, thankfully, because Matt immediately pushes him up against the door and kisses him like he’s been thinking about doing it for awhile.

“’m brain dead,” he murmurs against Foggy’s cheek, when they part after a long, messy kiss that has Foggy’s toes curling in his boots. “I blame you.”

“You are the one feeling me up in public, Murdock,” Foggy says, laughing but also very aware of Matt’s cold hands pushing up his sweater to press against Foggy’s bare back.

“You’re just so—accessible,” Matt says, digging his fingers in gently, fingers so close to Foggy’s ass that he can practically feel them. Their noses brush together, mouths not quite meeting.

“Accessible,” Foggy repeats, amused. “That’s flattering.”

“Sorry,” Matt says, smiling, moving in to kiss him once before he adds, “And great and sweet and— _hot_.”

“You’ve never seen me,” Foggy says.

“I’ve touched you, though,” Matt says, smirking a little. “That’s better.”

Foggy’s pretty sure that he blushes from head to toe, but he’s too distracted by Matt leaning down to kiss his neck and by Matt being less than observant about what his hips are doing.  

*

“You know, you don’t _actually_ have to keep your hands completely above my waist,” Matt gasps out, one night that started with them curled together in Matt’s bed with a movie playing on Foggy’s laptop and devolved into them making out fiercely while the movie keeps playing in the background.

“Are you sure?” Foggy asks, half-serious. “I don’t want to, like, lead you astray.”

Matt snorts a little, hides his face in Foggy’s neck for a second to breathe in deep before he purposefully takes Foggy’s hands and moves them from his waist to his ass. Foggy tightens his grip reverently.

“Shit,” he breathes.

“Is that okay?” Matt asks, mouth close to Foggy’s.

“Yep,” Foggy says, pushing up into another kiss, “yes, that’s great.”

Foggy tries to think about his homework, about washing the dishes he has piled up on his desk, about the inevitability of death—anything to keep him from coming just from friction and the feeling of Matt’s skin warm through his jeans.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know

Everything’s manageable until Matt walks in on Foggy jerking off—because he _has_ to, at some point, because his brain’s full of what Matt looks and sounds and tastes like when he’s practically ( _practically)_ grinding against Foggy. Matt’s done that a few times and Foggy’s had to shift away to avoid being too unholy, muttering, “Leave some room for Jesus, dude,” and grinning when Matt chokes on a loud laugh.

Basically, Foggy’s got a 24/7 stream of Matt with pink cheeks and bitten red lips and sweaty hair in the back of his head, which means he has to take matters into his own hands. Or hand, specifically, which is why he’s got his sweatpants shoved down and a hand wrapped around his dick when Matt comes home from class early one day.

“Hey— _oh_ ,” Matt says, all in one breath, sounding genuinely surprised, dropping his bag because he clearly knows what Foggy’s doing. The smell was probably unavoidable. “Oh, sorry, I can just—”

“You don’t have to, I can stop—” Foggy says, wiping his hand off on his sheets, standing up to pull his pants up when Matt shakes his head.

“Don’t stop,” he says. His voice is somehow firm and nervous at the same time.

“Are you going to go stand in the hallway or something?” Foggy asks.

“No,” Matt says, like he’s just made a decision. “I’ll stay. I want to stay.”

Foggy sits down heavily.

“Okay,” he says.

Matt takes his shoes off, lingers in front of Foggy for a moment before he sits down next to him. Foggy’s dick twitches at his mere presence, and Foggy tightens his grip just a little, whimpering in a completely unflattering way.

“This doesn’t cross any lines?” Foggy asks.

“We’re not having sex,” Matt says, shrugging, leaning forward to press his lips to the corner of Foggy’s mouth. It’s maybe the most chaste kiss that Foggy has ever received, and he has also never been more turned on—which is why he doesn’t bother to question Matt’s logic, shoving closer to kiss him as he starts to jerk himself off again.

Matt kisses him back enthusiastically, murmurs, “I know, I know,” while Foggy makes overwhelmed noises, moaning with his mouth on Matt’s when he comes over his hand. He grabs the towel that’s hanging from the foot of his bed to wipe his hand off before he’s turning back to Matt to see him rubbing his erection through his jeans.

“Do you want me to leave?” Foggy asks, sliding a hand into Matt’s hair. Matt’s biting down on his lower lip before he smiles, shaking his head.

“Stay,” he says, unbuttoning his pants.

\---

Watching Matt jerk off is, like, the best live porn, but the noises are all real and Foggy gets to touch him after it’s over. Foggy _really_ wants to touch his dick, because it’s a nice one, thick and flushed red. He’s pretty sure that it would qualify as sex, though; he really needs to sit Matt down and force him to make a list of where exactly the line is before they go to hell.

“So,” Foggy says, later, when they’re both clothed and lying together on Foggy’s bed. “You’re allowed to touch yourself, then?”

Matt laughs, turning to smile against Foggy’s shoulder.

“It wasn’t _encouraged_ ,” he says, dryly. “You do what you’ve got to do, though.”

“It’s not, like, making the angels cry?” Foggy asks, hauling him closer, tightening his arms around Matt.

“I think they have bigger concerns,” Matt says. “I don’t think—” He sighs, pressing a kiss to Foggy’s shoulder. “I don’t really think that _God’s_ all that bothered by who or what I touch. It’s just—the church has other ideas, and I—I still try, you know? With the things I can actually control.”

“I know,” Foggy says. “I’m not waiting for anything, Matty—I’m here for whatever you want.”

Matt lifts his head to smile at him before he leans up to press a soft kiss to Foggy’s mouth.

“Thanks,” he says.

\---

The fact that Foggy’s definitely in love with Matt—the fact that Foggy’s pretty sure that Matt feels the same about him—makes it easier. He’s pretty sure that he’d go back to just kissing, if Matt wanted, but—the adjacent masturbation’s great, too. Like, _really_ great. They’ve even been getting off at the same time, and Matt’s awkward dirty talk is getting way less awkward the longer they do this.

He always makes a point of being the one to slow things down if Matt seems like he’s pushing it, and Matt always looks pleased and nervous and sometimes pushes forward, anyway.

They’ve been kissing for a few minutes, Foggy up against a wall in their room with Matt draped over him, when Matt’s knee slides between Foggy’s legs.

“Code red,” Foggy says, gasping.

“We’re fully clothed,” Matt says, smirking, not moving his leg.

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, cupping Matt’s face, watching it intently. Matt raises his eyebrows, grinning when Foggy flips them around so Matt’s pressed up against the wall and their hips are shoved together.

“Yeah,” Matt breathes, grinding against him, lifting his leg to get closer. “Doesn’t even count.”

“The Bible’s more confusing than I remember,” Foggy says, kissing Matt one more time before he drags him to his bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the most self-indulgent fic in the world
> 
> I am pleased

Matt’s straddling one of Foggy’s legs, bent over to kiss him while he rubs him off though his jeans because they’ve moved onto practically direct contact, lately, when he says, “God, I want you so much, Fog. I want to feel you everywhere.”

Matt’s other hand is attempting to do that, tracing up and down Foggy’s side, squeezing his hip.

“You know,” Foggy says, voice strained, “we could probably take our shirts off, right?”

He’s already got Matt’s shirt rucked up around his stomach where his hands are underneath it, holding onto Matt’s waist just for the contact. Matt smiles down at him before he stops touching him, sitting up to pull his shirt off and give Foggy an up close look at how nice his muscles are, now that it’s not creepy for Foggy to admire them.

“Good point,” he says, pulling insistently at the hem of Foggy’s shirt so Foggy sits up to let him pull it off. Matt immediately moves so their chests are pressed together and Foggy wraps his legs around him, rolling his hips up to meet Matt’s and groaning.

“You’re doing the laundry this time,” Foggy says, tangling a hand in Matt’s hair.

 ---

Matt starts holding his hand in public.

They’ve never really talked about whether or not they’re dating, but Matt will take his hand instead of his arm when they’re walking on campus, hold his hand on top of the table when they get coffee. They’re doing that, now, finishing lattes before Matt has to go to their next class, Matt’s thumb rubbing up and down Foggy’s hand like he can’t help but touch him.

“Okay,” Matt says, regretfully, squeezing Foggy’s hand before he stands up. “I’ve got to go. See you at dinner?”

“Yeah, see you,” Foggy says.

Matt leans down to press a kiss to his hair and murmurs, “Love you,” before he walks away. Foggy gapes after him, laughing when Matt freezes at the door and immediately walks back.

“Something else you wanted?” Foggy asks.

“You know I love you, right?” Matt asks, hopefully. “Like, a lot?”

“I had an idea,” Foggy says, standing up to stand close to Matt, “but it’s nice to hear.”

Matt’s grin is beautiful.

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss Foggy’s cheek before he walks away again. Foggy watches him go before he realizes that he forgot to do something, hurrying out after Matt, who turns around at the sound of his footsteps.

“You know I love you back, right?” Foggy asks, from halfway down the sidewalk.

“Yeah, I know,” Matt says, happily. He reaches out to him and Foggy rushes over to him, wrapping his arms around Matt and kissing him for real this time, feeling Matt sigh and sink against him while people mutter angrily at them for making a scene in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Good,” Foggy says, when they finally part, and Matt nods.

“Good,” he says, again, laughing softly.

\---

They get day drunk the day after first semester finals, the day before they’re supposed to move out of the dorm—drinking too much whiskey that they got from the place near campus that doesn’t card and spending most of the afternoon having slow, lazy not-sex—or not Biblical sex, at least.

It’s easy to forget that Matt’s eighteen and Foggy’s nineteen, now, after a birthday a few weeks ago, when they’re so in love and also, so drunk. It feels really adult.

So does saying, “Let’s do it,” when Matt mumbles a joke about getting married with his teeth on Foggy’s bottom lip and his fingers tucked into the waistband of Foggy’s sweats.

“. . .what?” Matt asks, pulling away.

“Uhm,” Foggy says. “Let’s—get married?”

“We can’t—” Matt starts, then shakes his head and laughs. “We can’t get married just to have sex. It kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Then let’s get married because we love each other,” Foggy says, suddenly very confident that this is the only path they have to take. “Sex is just an added bonus.”

Matt’s mouth hangs open a little.

“Can we?” he asks.

“We’re legal,” Foggy says, sitting up and pulling Matt with him, taking Matt’s hands in his, “and—willing and—I really _love_ you, Matt.”

“I love you, too,” Matt says. “Will you marry me?”

“I asked you first,” Foggy says, laughing.

“Oh, right,” Matt says. “Then yes. Yes. Let’s go to the courthouse right now.”

Foggy pulls him into a long kiss before he asks, “Wait, sorry, are you sure? I don't want to pressure you. You were right, we shouldn't do this just because we want each other.”

“I want you forever,” Matt says. "I'm sure."

Foggy almost _cries_. It’s probably the whiskey.

“Okay, courthouse,” he says. “Put your fanciest clothes on.”

\---

The ceremony is short and informal and they both cry, wearing suits that they interviewed for scholarships in, a little bit wrinkled. Either nobody notices that they’re drunk or they just don’t care, but the lady who has them sign the documents smiles when they kiss each other afterward and says, “Good luck,” in a way that’s barely even sarcastic.

“Honeymoon,” Foggy says, when they’re on the steps outside.

“Hotel?” Matt asks.

“Money,” Foggy replies.

“ _Cheap_ hotel,” Matt says, immediately.

Foggy spends ten minutes finding the nearest hotel that doesn’t have bed bugs on his phone before he drags Matt down the street—turning around a few steps later to go back to the place where they got the whiskey to get champagne, too.


End file.
